- Location
- Baiting Hollow Long Island NY
I feel bad but I don't have much time for the tank lately. The glass needs cleaning and I really need to go out ang buy some good food for them.
My Mom is dying, she is old and your body runs out of steam after almost a century.
She comes from a time that we all just read about, a time before cars and even electricity. In 1910 when she was born downtown in Little Italy on Elizabeth Street (NYC) the street lights were lit with gas. When the lights in your house would dim, you had to run downstairs and put a nickel in the gas meter. In the morning someone would have to put some coal in the furnace so the pipes would not freeze.
Although, she was born here, she learned English in school. Everyone in Little italy only spoke Italian and across Canal Street was China Town where every one only spoke Chinese.
As a little girl, when she got sick, her Mother would make her sleep in a stable with the horses, they thought the smell of horse c--p would cure her. I guess it worked.
My Dad, who died fifty years ago would peddle fish from a bushel on his back. Every morning he would walk to the fulton Fish Market in lower Manhattan to get the fish
then walk back across the Manhattan Bridge to sell the fish in Brooklyn.
Those people were much different than my generation and my daughters generation.
People are very soft now, we can't take much hard work, or pain. Little things bother us because most of us have it much easier that that older generation.
They had no sick days, compensation, insurance, vacations, fish tanks or anything else.
I don't think my Father ever left New York in his life.
Even when My Mother was in her seventies, you had better not try to steal her subway seat, or you may walk away with a bloody nose. She was a very tough little Sicilian and afraid of nothing.
Anyway, this was my little rememberance of my Mother. She stopped eating a few days ago and I think she will be in Hospice in a day or so.
This happened 4 years ago and she survived, this time I pray she does not. She has no mind left at all and it is time for her to go and be with my Dad.
Sorry for the depressing post.
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My Mom is dying, she is old and your body runs out of steam after almost a century.
She comes from a time that we all just read about, a time before cars and even electricity. In 1910 when she was born downtown in Little Italy on Elizabeth Street (NYC) the street lights were lit with gas. When the lights in your house would dim, you had to run downstairs and put a nickel in the gas meter. In the morning someone would have to put some coal in the furnace so the pipes would not freeze.
Although, she was born here, she learned English in school. Everyone in Little italy only spoke Italian and across Canal Street was China Town where every one only spoke Chinese.
As a little girl, when she got sick, her Mother would make her sleep in a stable with the horses, they thought the smell of horse c--p would cure her. I guess it worked.
My Dad, who died fifty years ago would peddle fish from a bushel on his back. Every morning he would walk to the fulton Fish Market in lower Manhattan to get the fish
then walk back across the Manhattan Bridge to sell the fish in Brooklyn.
Those people were much different than my generation and my daughters generation.
People are very soft now, we can't take much hard work, or pain. Little things bother us because most of us have it much easier that that older generation.
They had no sick days, compensation, insurance, vacations, fish tanks or anything else.
I don't think my Father ever left New York in his life.
Even when My Mother was in her seventies, you had better not try to steal her subway seat, or you may walk away with a bloody nose. She was a very tough little Sicilian and afraid of nothing.
Anyway, this was my little rememberance of my Mother. She stopped eating a few days ago and I think she will be in Hospice in a day or so.
This happened 4 years ago and she survived, this time I pray she does not. She has no mind left at all and it is time for her to go and be with my Dad.
Sorry for the depressing post.
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